


Please

by MissSunFlower94



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Fucking as Stress-Relief, Other, Pegging, cel fucks, it's what they deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSunFlower94/pseuds/MissSunFlower94
Summary: Zolf's had a bad day and Cel just wants him to tell them what he wants (what he really, really wants)
Relationships: Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom/Zolf Smith
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrettyBlueColors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyBlueColors/gifts).



> *glances at the ZolfCel tag* wow, something was really in the water this week, huh?
> 
> Anyway I gave PrettyBlueColors the prompt of Zolf getting fucked as Stress Relief and then my brain said "But I Want That" and so y'all get two cakes!

It’s been a godawful day, even by Zolf’s standards. The headache began early and never really went away and only instead got more headaches stacked on top of it. There are things he can do to relax - reading typically, but the thought of concentrating on small print isn’t particularly appealing. Really, nothing sounds more appealing than just burrowing under the weight of several blankets and shutting out the world.

The problem is that the world is still in his head, as loud in there is as it is anywhere else. Louder sometimes, without another person around to distract him. In moods like this, Zolf has slowly learned that being alone is, in fact, much worse.

And that’s what brings him to where he is now, with his head buried in the crook of Cel’s neck. They have one hand rubbing his back, the other in his hair, holding him against them as if he has the slightest intention of moving.

For all their rambling ways of explaining, Cel is wonderful at knowing when the best thing to say is nothing. They’ve said two things since he knocked on their door. “Bad day?” and “Want a hug?” Both questions received what could graciously be called a grunt and now he has been on their bed and more-or-less in their lap for an indeterminable period of time, face pressed against their skin, just breathing. 

Their room is dark, windowless with only a small, barely burning lamp on a dresser for light, so there’s no indication of the passage of time. Cel eventually shifts a little under him, and he understands that their legs have probably fallen asleep.

“Right. Um. Sorry,” he says, pulling away and moving so he’s kneeling beside them, although he already misses the contact.

“Don’t be; you’ve done the same for me often enough,” Cel points out. Their voice is so gentle, their hand still playing with the hair at the back of his neck. Zolf’s eyes are already half closed. They study him for a moment before they say, “Can I kiss you?” 

His answer is immediate. “Please.”

Cel pauses a second longer, then closes the distance between them, leaning down to capture his mouth with theirs. Zolf relaxes into it with a sigh, bringing his arms around them, welcoming the swell of warmth that spreads through his body and makes his head swim pleasantly.

They begin to pull away and Zolf presses forward, chasing their lips, not ready to lose the sensation yet. Cel makes a soft, startled hum, but before he can worry that he might have overstepped, they part only long enough to take a proper breath, shifting to take his face in both their hands before they return. 

Their kiss is stronger this time, deeper, seemingly understanding what he needs. Their tongue slides over his lower lip before coaxing his mouth open. Zolf moans, his grip tightening in their shirt. He kisses them back to the best of his ability but is happy to let Cel have the lead, content to be deeply and thoroughly kissed.

Cel slowly slides their hands down from his face, letting them glide down the sides of his neck, their calloused fingers ghosting over his skin and making him shiver. He feels them smile as their hands continue, running over his shoulders and slowly down his chest. Zolf arches into the touch instinctively.

Their long, clever fingers come back up to play with the top button of his shirt, taking their time before undoing it. They open the shirt a little, letting their blunt nails dig into his skin as they do so and Zolf lets out a small noise dangerously close to a whimper. Cel catches his lower lip between their teeth and tugs gently. The sound he makes is  _ definitely  _ a whimper.

They move to the next button down, still in no apparent hurry to undress him. Absently, he knows this is new for them, but he doesn’t care. It feels good; in spite of his rapid heartbeat, he feels more relaxed than he has been all day, if not longer. 

Cel undoes the second button, repeating the action of pulling his shirt further open, gently caressing newly bared skin before moving ever so slowly to the third. Zolf squirms, breaking their kiss.

“Cel,” he says, his voice strained. “Please.”

Cel stills, moving back enough to look at him, their expression curious. One hand comes back up to cup his cheek. “Please, what?”

It takes a moment for the question to get through the pleasant fog in his brain. “What?” 

Their thumb brushes over his cheek in a gentle caress that he leans into as they search his face. “I want to know what, exactly, you’re asking me for,” they say slowly and clearly. “I’m- you know I’m happy to give you whatever you want, Zolf, but it will be much easier if I know what that is.”

The immediate answer is ‘ _ you _ ’ but Zolf knows that Cel, understandably, wants more specificity than that. The problem is, outside of wanting Cel, he’s not really sure of the answer. They’ve been intimate a few times before, with Zolf getting them off with his mouth or his hands, finding his own pleasure in watching Cel come apart under him, in having that control. But now that’s the last thing he wants; he wants to not have to focus, not have to  _ think _ ; he wants to be theirs, and nothing else; he wants-

“I- I want you to fuck me, Cel,” he says quietly, startling himself with the desperatiton in his tone. “Please.” 

Cel’s eyebrows jump up, their breath catching. “Why, Mr. Smith,” they say with a slightly quivery attempt at a smirk. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Zolf feels a bit of his usual embarrassment begin to rise again. “Fuck, I-. Forget- forget it.”

“Hey, no.” They keep their hand firmly on his face and don’t let him look away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease. I asked, you answered. That’s good.”

“I know. I... just- I don’t want to- to sound- to feel like I’m using you.”

Cel snorts softly. “Zolf, please. Did it feel like I was using  _ you _ when you went down on me for what had to have been  _ at least _ half an hour last week?” Zolf flushes a deep red at the memory, and when he’s silent a second too long, a brief concern flashes in Cel’s eyes. “Did it?”

“Wha-  _ no _ !” He says quickly. “No, no, no. That was- that was… nice.”

They relax and stroke his cheek again. “And this will be nice for me,” they say. “I- you- you should know I am very attracted to you, Zolf, and I- you know, I care about you personally, too, of course. So, honestly, if you want me to fuck you sensless, I really am not going to complain.”

Zolf makes a slightly strangled noise and Cel’s smile turns a touch mischievous. They move their hand to stroke his beard, then skritch gently under his chin. He barely keeps from moaning. “ _ Is _ that what you want?” Cel adds, the almost imperceptible shift in their tone flooding him with warmth. 

“Yes,” he breathes. 

Satisfied, Cel kisses him again, slow and deep. Their hands go back to work, undoing the rest of the buttons with efficiency and sliding the shirt off of him. He shivers; their hands are cool, their light caress raising goosebumps over his skin. They lay their hands flat on his chest, not quite a push but a pressure enough to ease him back until he is reclined under them.

“Right, but just-” Cel pulls away again and Zolf groans a little, pacified when they peck him lightly on the lips. “Just for- for clarity: When you say you want me to fuck you, does that mean you want me to make you come, or do you mean it that you literally want me inside of you?” 

When Zolf says nothing, a bit flustered for all that it is a valid question, Cel quickly adds, “I mean, obv- obviously you’ll come either way. I just want to make it clear that penetration isn’t necessary to get you there, if that’s not what you- if that’s not something you’re interested in.”

He’s not sure what it says about him that Cel’s matter-of-fact explanations arouse him more than any more… flowery talk might. He’s not going to question it.

“I- I am,” he says. He swallows hard. “Interested, I mean. In… that.”

There’s a brief flicker of surprise on their face, quickly followed by a smile that makes him feel dizzy. “Alright,” they murmur, leaning back down to kiss him. To his disappointment, it’s only a minute before they not only break the kiss but slide off of him completely, getting off of the bed. 

“Cel,” he groans. 

They laugh. “What? You did sort of spring this on me, Mr. Smith - not that I have any problem with that, but it does mean that I’m not exactly pre-prepared.” 

He pushes himself up on his elbows and watches them go to their bag of holding and rummage through it, removing first a small jar and then, after a longer pause, something distinctly phallic. Zolf finds he isn’t actually surprised that these are things Cel had packed months ago.

Cel returns to the bed, setting both items beside him and moving to straddle him. He inhales sharply. “Still good?” They ask, sliding their hands over his chest again.

He nods, lifting himself up to kiss their neck. Cel sighs, then moans when he nips at their skin. They lean down further to lessen the distance, letting him lavish attention on their jaw and throat, kissing and biting and sucking, basking in the little noises of pleasure he draws from them. Their hips rock against his cock, already growing hard in his trousers, and he groans. 

They straighten, breaking his contact. “Enough of that,” they say, although Zolf notes their uneven breathing and the flush to their skin and feels a rush of pride. It must show on his face because Cel laughs breathlessly, moving down to kiss him quickly on the lips. “This is about  _ you _ ,” they remind him. 

“And I’m enjoying myself,” he assures them, just a little bit cheeky. They roll their eyes.

“I’ll show you ‘ _ enjoying yourself _ ,’” they mumble, before peppering kisses down his chest - turning his resulting laugh into a soft moan. They circle his nipple a few times with their tongue before closing their lips around it with a gentle suction. Zolf’s hips buck a little.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he gasps. “Is- uh, is that how it feels when I do this to you?”

Cel lifts their head to grin wickedly at him. “Good, isn’t it?” They blow softly, cool air making him shiver. “You’re so good to me, Mr. Smith.”

They spend a bit longer there, making him squirm and moan, before they continue down, resting their hands on the waistband of his trousers. They pull away to meet his eyes. “Alright?” They ask. 

“Alright,” he says.

Cel nods and goes to work undoing the buttons there and sliding his trousers, and then his pants, off. They both carefully watch each other, aware that they’ve been in the reverse of this scenario several times already, but this is a first. Cel’s eyes slowly drift from his, traveling down his chest and lingering over his cock, fully-erect. They lick their lips, the gesture seemingly unthinking but makes his mouth go dry. 

“You’re lovely, Zolf,” they say earnestly and he flushes a little. “Can I touch you?”

He swallows and nods, suddenly unable to speak. Cel keeps their touch light, gliding their fingers up and down his length, circling the tip briefly and watching as it twitches. Zolf groans, barely stopping himself from bucking into their hand. It’s almost torture but he doesn’t want this over before it’s begun.

Cel has the same idea, and they release him a moment later, sliding both hands down his thighs. Their fingers gently caress the scar tissue where his prosthetics begin, then press gently until he opens his legs so Cel is bracketed by them. They reach over to the small jar of lubricant, weighing it in their hand for a minute, keeping their eyes on him. “Have you, um- I know this is- we haven’t done this before but you- have you had anyone in you before?”

He flushes darker - which is a bit ridiculous, given where they are - but he nods. “Uh, yeah. Um. Once. Long time ago…” 

They study him for a moment before they pop open the jar and, after another moment’s thought, begin coating their little finger. “Right,” they say, sinking down between his legs, still holding his gaze. “If you decide you don’t like it, let me know and I’ll stop. Alright?”

Zolf shivers, anticipation coursing through him. “Alright,” he agrees, his voice barely a breath. 

They circle his entrance a few times with their pinky, applying just a bit of pressure. They meet his eyes again, the question unspoken. Zolf nods.

They enter him slowly and he inhales, the sensation new and hot, flooding through his body. They pull out and slide back in, deeper. He whines, the sound nearly an octave higher than normal. 

Cel pauses, still inside. “Good?”

“Y-yeah- yeah. It’s-” Cel begins again and he loses his words in a long moan. “Is-is good,” he manages.

They continue to work their finger in and out of him, curling it in a way that makes his hips lift off the mattress. They rest a hand on his hip, bringing him back down before moving to wrap the hand loosely around his cock. They give him a few strokes in time with moving inside him, watching him intently as he gasps and writhes beneath them. Then they take both hands away and Zolf bites his lip to keep from whimpering. Cel smiles. “More?” 

“Please.” 

Their smile grows and they move back to coat their first two fingers and settle more comfortably between his legs. Zolf shudders as they slide the first finger into him with ease. They pump it in and out with practiced grace before slowly inserting their second finger.

“Cel- fuck-” He tries to say more, to tell them how  _ bloody good _ this feels but again he can barely form the words, can barely think anything more coherent than their name.

Cel works him open, spreading him a little more with each pump of their fingers until he is gripping the sheets, panting. Then they’re pulling out of him again and he nearly sobs, his hips bucking and chasing the sensation. 

Cel sits up and retrieves the phallus from beside him. They take their time getting it lubricated, stroking their fingers up and down in a way that makes his own cock twitch in envy. 

“ _ Cel _ ,” he whines. 

“What?” They ask, infuriatingly innocent. “Don’t you want my cock in you?” Zolf makes a miserable little noise that would have embarrassed him if he could think about anything other than how much he needed them. 

They smirk, passing the phallus into one hand and reaching up with the other to brush some of his hair off his forehead, their fingers blissfully cool on his burning skin. He moans, his eyes fluttering shut. “ _ Do _ you want my cock in you?” They ask again.

“Yes,” he chokes out, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Fuck- Cel-  _ please _ .”

They hum, satisfied, and settle back down - nudging his legs a little further open. A moment later Zolf feels the smooth head press a little at his hole, pausing once again. He nods, or thinks he does - he’s not feeling entirely in control of his body at the moment, in the best possible way. Whatever he does, it gets the point across and Cel slowly slides the phallus into him.

His moan is loud and raw, pleasure burning out any self-consciousness like mist in the sun. Cel brings their hand back to his hip, holding him steady as they find a rhythm to their thrusts. Zolf gives up any attempt at speech, mewling helplessly as they take him, his head falling back.

Cel brings themself up to kiss his exposed throat, their tongue gliding up the length of it. “You’re being so good,” they murmur against his skin, and pull away again to watch him. “You look so pretty like this.” He can barely focus on the words themselves but the praise and adoration in their tone is sweet and intoxicating as honey wine. 

He’s not going to last much longer, he can feel himself teetering on the edge and he’s torn between begging for that release and wanting to spend hours, days, in this mindless, heady bliss. Cel shifts a little, their next thrust hitting at a slightly different angle and the former wins out. He keens, rolling his hips, bucking against air, needing just a little more, just-

Cel leans against his upper thigh, freeing up their hand to wrap firmly around him. They pump their hand up and down, keeping time with the strong, deep thrusts of Cel’s cock in him, and the sensations together are more than enough. Zolf cries out when he comes, every nerve ending on fire akin to when he’d been struck by lightning. Vaguely, he remembers Cel describing that rush as beautiful and wonderful and he agrees.

He comes back to himself slowly, barely aware of Cel slipping the phallus out of him and wiping it off on their shirt before setting it beside him again. They move to lay beside him and he untangles his hands from the sheets to wrap both arms around them, holding them snuggly to him.

They kiss the top of his head and rest their cheek there. “How are you feeling?” They ask gently.

It takes him a minute to answer; everything feels a bit foggy and he’s exhausted in a bone-deep, satisfied way he’s never really been before. “‘s- ‘m- I’m good,” he says, burying his face in the crook of their neck again. “You’re- Cel, you- … was real good.”

Cel laughs softly. “Good,” they murmur and kiss his head again. “You want to sleep here?”

“-asleep already…”

“Fair enough.” He snorts a little and they laugh harder, letting it taper off into a deeply content sigh. They wiggle a little in his arms, getting more comfortable. 

Zolf kisses their shoulder, mustering enough energy to breathe a soft, “Thanks, Cel.”

The last thing he hears before drifting off, a smile audible in their voice, is “Anytime.” 


End file.
